


“I ddon't likke youu.”

by KatherineKrawl



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Amused Hannibal, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Embarrassed Will, Embarrassing babbling, Fluff and Crack, Hannibal is in love, High Hannibal Lecter, High Will Graham, M/M, Oral Sex, Post S03E 13 TWOTL, Sharing a Bed, Surgeon Hannibal, Will is amused, Will is grumpy, Will is hazy from the anesthetics after surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23873662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatherineKrawl/pseuds/KatherineKrawl
Summary: Hazy from anesthetics for an ankle surgery, Will exposes a lot more of his conflicted feelings for Hannibal than he wanted to.“I ddon't likke youu.”Hannibal froze as the words hit the back of his head, and the dirty scalpel fell from his hands into the sink, disappearing beneath pink foam.Soiled water and soap splattered on his hands and arms, as he turned towards the double bed on the other side of the room.“Yeaaah, youu.” A weak, woozy finger pointed straight at him. “Youu!” Hazy blue eyes with widened, black pupils stared cloudily but fiercely at him as a deep frown folded the forehead beneath bouncy curls.“I ddon't likke youu.”
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 58
Kudos: 880





	“I ddon't likke youu.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CassieRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieRaven/gifts).



> Thank you to CassieRaven for giving me this awesome plot idea!

“I ddon't likke youu.”

Hannibal froze as the words hit the back of his head, and the dirty scalpel fell from his hands into the sink, disappearing beneath pink foam.

Soiled water and soap splattered on his hands and arms, as he turned towards the double bed on the other side of the room.

“Yeaaah, youu.” A weak, woozy finger pointed straight at him. “Youu!” Hazy blue eyes with widened, black pupils stared cloudily but fiercely at him as a deep frown folded the forehead beneath bouncy curls. “I ddon't likke youu.”

Hannibal looked at the man on the bed; wakening from his anesthetics and pushing himself up on the mattress by his elbows. Hannibal had carried him there after performing surgery on a fracture in Will's ankle, for which supplies had been – involuntarily – provided by a hospital five villages back. 

Narcotics included.

Hannibal smiled softly at the fierce scowl directed at him, as he dried his hands on a towel before moving towards the bed. He had been grateful to provide Will with a sedative, after two weeks of medical procedures without. Their steep fall after the feral fight had damaged them both considerably, and the man had been forced to bite down on a piece of cloth every time Hannibal had cut into his skin or set a broken bone.

Will's pain had been such beautiful fragility, but to heal the fractured ankle, Hannibal had needed drugs. The chances of shock taking his friend would have been too much of a risk.

Hannibal wasn't risking Will.

He sat on the edge of the bed, and used a flat hand to push Will gently back against his pillow. Setting and reconstructing the bones would take several procedures... and time. But tucked away in the safe, secluded space of their comfortable hideaway, time was plentiful.

“Youu allwaysss lookk smmug,” Will complained groggily, as he lay back down on the pillow with drowsy eyes full of accusation.

Surviving together had been a silent affair, with Will often retreating in his own conflicted head, and their eyes rarely meeting across the table.

This... this was _refreshing_. 

Hannibal couldn't help but smile. 

“Well, Will, if that's...” he started pleasantly, enjoying the man's name in his mouth. But Will's pink lips pressed together as he shushed him with a hiss. 

“Annd whhen youu _don't_ lookk smmug, you lookk at mee with thosse biiig, smmoldery, _stuuupid_ eyess.” He brought his hand up to point at Hannibal again. This time with such vigor, he almost hit him square in the eye.

Hannibal took the hand in his, angling it away from his face and lowering it to Will's chest.

“Do I?” he asked, as he folded the sheets around Will's torso. The intoxicated babble was something Hannibal knew Will would feel embarrassed about later, and yet he couldn't help feeling his skin sing with the incoherent, free words that flowed from his mouth.

Will looked up at him with those thundering, stormy eyes, as his hands curled around Hannibal's on his chest. Keeping him firmly in place. “Yess, do I. Yes I do – _you_ do,” he struggled, squeezing Hannibal's fingers with his own. Hannibal felt his own heart pump blood hard and fast through his artery at the touch of their skin.

Other than medical, clinical, practical... they hadn't... _touched_. 

Hannibal inhaled through his nose as he looked down at Will with a raw and longing tenderness, and Will instantly scoffed at the sight. “See, thhat,” he said, bringing up his left hand to poke right between Hannibal's eyes. “Thhat onne.”

Hannibal blinked at the finger on the bridge of his nose, before watching it retract. Will stubbornly crossed his arms over his chest, trapping Hannibal's hand tightly in between. 

“Youu are b-b-badd,” the man said, as his lips pursed like a stubborn, berating child. “A b-bad, b-bad persson.” Those dazed eyes tried to steady on his, and Will firmed his grip on the sheets at his sides. “Youu kill lotts of peopllee. Lotss,” he said, drawing out every syllable as if enjoying the way every sound felt on his tongue. “Andd thenn...youuuu eaat themm.”

Will's lips tightened and curved down almost comically with disapproval. “T-that's really badd.”

Hannibal watched the man with affection as he used his free hand to stroke a loose curl from Will's forehead – careful to avoid the stitching on his cheek.

“Sooo there...” Will smacked his lips and, startling himself, blinked rapidly at the sound. “I cann't likke youu.” 

Simultaneously with the spoken words, Will pushed his head further into Hannibal's touch, and closed his eyes. Content, like a nuzzling animal. Hannibal felt his throat thicken at the sight.

So real beneath his hand, yet so far from reality.

He hummed gently at the sight and the sensation, causing Will to huff as those hazy blue eyes opened beneath fluttering, dark lashes. “Eeeverybody thinkss you are sooo smartt,” he suddenly trailed, squeezing Hannibal's hand tighter against his chest by clenching his arms. “Annd soo talentedd andd good looking and prettyy.”

Hannibal watched the man's attempt to roll his eyes as Will openly grunted his frustration. “Peopple talkked about youu whenn youu were in prisson,” he scoffed. A little drool shimmered in the corner of his mouth. “I saww you on tvv. I saww youu in the papperss.”

Hannibal felt the skin of Will's chest soft and warm against his fingers, as he watched him flash his eyes to the ceiling.

“I saww you eeverywheeree,” Will breathed, his mouth opening to a perfect O as his jaw hung slack. “And theyy were alll justt eatingg you upp.”

There was a pause, a blink, before Will threw back his head and let out a wet, unexpected giggle. Hannibal watched him as Will laughed, freely and raw. One tear leaked from between his eyelids. 

“...eaaating you upp.” - Hannibal heard him murmur between hiccups, and his smile stretched and grew into pure adoration as he watched Will's head roll against the pillow.

The tear dried as Will calmed, stretched his legs further on the mattress and cradled Hannibal's hand against his slowing chest. “But no noo,” he said, as he tried to bring his eyes back on Hannibal's.  
“They don'tt knoww youu.” 

The gaze connected, nearly steady as Will slurred words that tightened Hannibal's skin beneath the slacks and sweater.

\- “ _I_ knoww youu.”

Hannibal swallowed, his breath tighter in his throat as his hand curled around Will's fingers. He looked at Will and Will looked back. A rare sight, these days.

“You do,” he said, the words a gentle breath. 

Will grunted, more like a growling dog than human, before he closed his eyes again.

“Oonly I knoww youu,” he murmured, before allowing his head to fall to the side. And as Will slept, Hannibal's hand stayed safely in his grip, and Hannibal felt his heart thump beneath the skin. Steady.

**

Will didn't wake until the setting sun, and grunted his displeasure as he sat up against a pillow Hannibal had placed in his back.

“Drink this,” Hannibal said as he handed him a cup of weak herbal tea. One that soothes the stomach and eases the aches.

“Ugh,” Will groaned, as he curled weak hands around the cup. “Thanks.”

The covers were folded back, as Hannibal silently inspected the bandaging around Will's ankle, and felt blue eyes following him from the other side of the bed.

“Did the surgery go as planned?” Will asked, blowing on his tea as Hannibal covered his lower body with the sheets again. His voice was rough and dry.

“It did,” Hannibal said, feeling bold enough to take a seat on the edge of the bed again. Will's cup froze midway to his mouth, as he looked up through his bangs. He looked older with exhaustion, yet younger with the bright flush of life Hannibal had seen there only recently, hidden well behind the confliction, the guilt and the fear. “If we can stave off infection, it will heal nicely.” 

Will's lashes fluttered nervously as he looked down at his cup. The first sip stripped the roughness from his voice. “I guess I'm very lucky to be on the run with an actual _surgeon_ ,” he spoke with pained amusement, as he drank slow sips of his herbal tea, allowing it to sooth him.

Hannibal chuckled as he rose from the bed.

“And yet you do not like me,” he teased, tilting up one corner of his mouth as he watched Will's eyes widen over the cup.

“...I...”, he started, blinking rapidly over his tea and Hannibal chuckled again as he made his way out the door.

**

The second surgery on Will's ankle was equally successful, but as Hannibal carried him from the operating table to the bed, Will had already begun to stir in his arms.

Hannibal lowered him gently to the mattress and he watched the man's head roll side to side on the pillow. “Will?” he asked, cupping rough stubbles with his hand. “Will, are you in pain?”

Will's lids shifted with the movement of his eyes, before he cracked them open and squinted against the light.

“Mmm nah,” he hummed, slowly bringing up his hands to flex his fingers as if the movement brought him some sort of confirmation. “Nah pain.”

Hannibal was relieved to see a small smile play around Will's open lips, but was startled when the man suddenly started pushing himself upright by placing his hands on the mattress.

“Lie down, Will,” he warned, as he placed a flat hand on Will's sternum. “Take it easy, now.” The man gave way under his touch like a boat on water, but both hands grasped Hannibal's fingers in protest.

“Doon't touch mee,” he slurred, as he held on tight to Hannibal's hand. His eyes were stormy clouds with bright lightning through the thunder. “Donn't youu touch mee.”

He cradled Hannibal's hand against his throat, where Hannibal could feel the blood pumping beneath the tender skin. A most vulnerable feeling. A most tender witnessing of Will's precious, precious life.

“Youu wantt to touchh mee?” Will slurred drunkenly at him, and Hannibal had to restrain himself from brushing his fingers over the tendons that moved beneath Will's flesh.

“Yes, I do,” he confessed gently, and watched as Will bared his teeth at him.

“I knoww youu want tto touch mee,” Will slurred. His cheeks were flushed, his voice heated and his lips opened wide around every word. “But youu...” two index-fingers flipped open from the grasping fists. “Youu _never_ touchh mee.”

Lashes fluttered as Will's nails clawed at his skin, prattling on.

“Youu neverr touchh youu... _me_ ,” he rambled, puzzling with the words as he clung hard to Hannibal's hand. “Me!... youu neverr touchh _me_.”

Hannibal didn't pull away from the stinging, firm touch on his hand, and surrendered to the longing that blossomed fresh yet long familiar from beneath his own flesh. Will had never asked for his touch. Will had never answered his longing.

“Do you want me to touch you, Will?” he asked, his voice nearly a whisper as his hands opened wider against Will's skin.

Will's breathing came out in short, throaty huffs and his eyes stroked up and down Hannibal's face as he sighed: “Youu... you likke mee.”

Hannibal watched him. Saw him, and knew the man saw him in return. It was only Will he could see through the veil and without, and find the exact same man on the other side. His feeling might be inconvenient, his emotions unfiltered yet irrevocably true for both man and beast when it came to Will Graham. 

“I do,” he admitted, and felt his chest tighten with fear when Will released his hand from his grip. On the side of his thumb shone pink half-circles of blunt fingernails. But his dread was replaced by weakening desire when Will pushed against his hand with a daring challenge. 

“Touchh mee,” he said, his drunken tongue rolling freely around the words.

Hannibal looked at him, watched the flushed spots high on the other man's cheeks, and licked his own dry lips wet. Then, he pushed out his hand, and stroked it through the soft, warm curls on top of Will's head. 

A caress. A gentle, loving pet.

It was all he could afford, yet more than he had expected.

Will closed his eyes into the ministrations against the skin of his scalp. “Mmmmm yess,” he sighed into the contact. “I llike itt when youu touchh mee,” the man hummed pleasure, and Hannibal watched his face relax under his fingers. “Don't stopp evver againn.”

It was a sweet plea in a command, and Hannibal felt the soft hair graze his skin with a warmth and life that set his own skin alight.

“So you _do_ like me,” he laughed softly, feeling joy grow like a balloon in his belly, as he watched Will settle deeper into his pillow. 

Will's eyes opened at the words.

“Na-oh,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing Hannibal's fingers along his scalp with the movement.

He blinked, little less than thirty times over, before those stormy eyes found their way to settle back on Hannibal. “Mmnot suppose to,” he said, folding his chin on his chest as he reached one unsteady hand out to stroke broadly over Hannibal's face. “I'm nott suppossed too likke youu, Hannniball.”

Hannibal felt the sloppy fingers exploring his forehead. “Says who?” he asked. 

Will blew air through his lips, making them vibrate with the movement. “Meeee,” he said, as he poked Hannibal's cheekbones with his fingers. “Aaaaand Jackk.” A fingernail caught Hannibal's nostril. “And Mowwy, Allanala... and dead- Abigaail.”

Hannibal allowed the gentle assault to his face, as he looked down at the sweet, wounded man that was his only living family. One finger came to rest on the tip of his nose, pressing lightly against the curve. 

“B-but I doo.” Will's eyes were glowing when his lips curled over straight teeth. “I doo llikke youu.”

Hannibal's hand never stopped stroking through the messy mop of curls.

“I like you too.”

**

Will was slurping soup through chapped lips as Hannibal sat down in front of his own steaming bowl at the other end of the table. 

The other man didn't look up to meet his eyes, as Hannibal picked up his spoon and dipped it into the clear, yellow broth. Perfectly balanced chicken soup to ease Will's stomach and lift his strength.

Three bites in, he dared to try: “Do you have any memory of our conversation after your surgery yesterday?”

Will's eyes finally met his, if only briefly, before sinking back down to the half-empty bowl. Pink brushed his cheeks as he gnawed his reply with a tense: “No.”

Hannibal's lips twitched. Will was too tired and wounded to hide from him, and yet he tried. “Nothing?” he probed, enjoying the way Will's ears heated beneath the silk of his hair.

Stormy eyes shot back up with fire this time, as Will licked the salty moisture off his lips. “Nothing I care to remember,” he gritted, but didn't hide his eyes this time when Hannibal rose an eyebrow with playful intrigue.

“There is no need for embarrassment, Will,” he said, blowing gently on his spoonful of soup. “It might very well have been the most honest conversation we ever shared.”

Will snorted, soup spilling from his mouth as his shoulders dipped and his eyes flared. “Oh, please,” he scoffed, but his lips twitched regardless before he hid them in his napkin.

A socked foot nudged Hannibal's ankle punishingly beneath the table, and Hannibal's heart fluttered at the unexpected touch.

“All the time and deeds between us make this... irrevocably complicated, Hannibal,” Will said as he lowered the piece of cloth, his hidden smile turning coy with his confession.

The napkin landed on the table, crumpled into a ball. “But I do like you.” 

Hannibal felt his blood pump up from his neck, behind his ear, seeping in the curve of his cheeks. Will's eyes were clear, this time, and the pained amusement was lightened with something soft. Steady on Hannibal over the table, like they hadn't been in a long, long while. 

Hannibal allowed his own lips to fall into a real, warmed smile as he placed his spoon back on the table. “Just as you like my fingers in your hair?” he asked, tilting his head with obvious intent. Only after Will had fallen into a deep slumber, had Hannibal been allowed to withdraw his touch from his scalp. 

He hadn't.

Will snorted air from his nose as let his spoon fall into the empty bowl, and the sound of metal against clay was a clear ring in the small kitchen. He folded his arms over his chest, and pressed his lips together with what seemed to be exhausted mirth.

“Don't push it,” he bit, stars in his eyes and pink on his cheeks.

**

The third procedure was the last Hannibal needed to do on Will's ankle. If it would heal as planned, as well as receive regular exercise, Will would walk without a limp within the next three to six months.

The surgery had been completed quickly and without complication, but this time, upon waking, Will had been restless and anxious. Whimpers had left his pale lips as he had clung to Hannibal, bent over the bed as he tried to lay him down.

“It's OK, Will,” Hannibal had shushed him when those blue eyes opened wide. “You're all right.”

“H-H-Hannibal?” Will had croaked, as he had pulled the man closer with grabbing, frightened hands. Hannibal had rested his forehead against Will's temple, as his fingers stroked his hair with the same, familiar pace as before. It was the only liberty he dared to take.

“Yes, I'm here,” he soothed, allowing Will to grasp the lapels of his jacket. “You're here, with me.”

Will blinked, breathing heavily through his mouth, before he released Hannibal's jacket with contracting fingers.

The panic melted from his eyes as they scanned through the room. “Yesss... I'm heree,” he said, a heavy but pleasant daze setting over his features. “Yess... yess. I'mm heree.”

He sagged back against the pillow, as his eyes full of dreams now grazed Hannibal with gentle clouds. Relief.

“I'm hhere,” he mused, fingers coming up to touch his own face. “I'm hhere with youuuuu.”

Hannibal watched him with love in his heart as he brushed a hand over Will's forehead. Damp, but not hot. “You're here with me,” he sighed, and Will sighed, too. 

There was a smile on his face, contentment, a peace that Hannibal had only twice before seen in the man; the pleasure shared when dining on ortolans and after their battle with the Dragon. 

Will was smiling, staring up at the ceiling, when suddenly a dark sturdiness crept back over his features.

“Youu...” Hands suddenly swatted at Hannibal's torso as Will tried to sit up straighter. “Youu,” he growled again, pawing at Hannibal's shirt. “ – you'll llleave mee.” Hannibal's attempt to grasp his flailing hands failed when Will pulled himself loose. “You'll, you'll, you'll just leaveee m-me heeere.”

His tone was sharp from his doubling tongue and his brow was low with accusation. Hannibal pulled back from the angry hands, sitting up on the side of the bed as he tried to calm Will with his words.

“I'm not leaving you, Will,” he promised whole-heartedly as he rested one hand on Will's covered stomach. “I'm staying right here.”

Beneath the sheets, Will's leg tried to kick off his touch. “Youuu cowwward,” he slurred, and Hannibal shifted his hand down on the kicking leg. If the other would join, the stitches on his ankle could easily tear. “Youu liiarrr.”

“I'm not leaving you, Will,” Hannibal shushed, trying to speak calm and patiently rather than let his own passion and pain breathe on the fire that was apparently one of Will's deep-founded worries. “Look at me,” he ordered the unsteady eyes on him as his hand curled around Will's upper arm for some carefully directed grounding. “I am not leaving you.”

Will's arm slipped from his grip again as he dropped himself back against his pillow with an unceremonious: “Phah!” His head thudded lightly against the headboard, and Hannibal winced as he reached behind the man, and pulled the pillow firmly into place.

“Not phah,” he soothed, as he watched Will stare back at him with eyes more boy than man. “I'm telling you the truth.” His hand folded around Will's on top of the sheets, who tried out his fingers stiffly against Hannibal's skin.

“Nah,” he mumbled with a weak sneer. “Na, I-I-I don't trust you.”

One corner of Hannibal's mouth twitched. A weird pull of amused regret. “As long as you believe I'm not leaving you,” he spoke, and tightened his grip on Will's hand.

Will's eyes lowered to where they touched. “Eever?” he hummed. “Eever – eever – eever?”

His tongue rolled over the word repeatedly, and Hannibal could only smile as he watched Will's cheek play with a new shade of pink.

“Unless you ask me to go,” he said, enjoying the way Will's fingers danced against his hand.

“Noo,” Will moaned lazily. “Noo, but youu...” His free hand came back with that finger. This time it hooked into Hannibal's collar. “Youu're nott gonna putt mee anyywheree?”

Hannibal allowed himself to be pulled closer with that single finger in his shirt.

“No, Will,” he breathed against Will's face as the tips of their noses grazed. One fingertip dipped into the hallow of his throat. “Never again.” 

The hand on his shirt balled into a fist as Will's hand tightened, and yanked him even closer.

“Youu – youu – youuu put mee in prisonn, you knoww, youuu _dick_!” he spat, nose to nose as Hannibal felt the man's heartbeat jump. There was a pain through the clouds in Will's eyes that was sharper than a knife in his flesh.

“Never again,” he repeated. He wasn't a man of promises, but he did keep them. This promise to Will, he intended to keep with every fiber in his being.

Will's lips tightened, as his fingers released Hannibal's shirt again. “You dickk,” he slurred drunkenly as Hannibal pushed back the curls from Will's forehead.

“Never again, Will,” he muttered, wishing he could take the entirety of the man, and fold him onto his lap. Hold him.

Will scoffed another: “Phah,” and Hannibal's lips opened into a defeated smile.

“For as long as you are willing to stay...” he said, allowing Will's hands to reach for his face. “I want you here, with me.” Searching fingers brushed his nose, his cheek, his eyebrows.

Will watched him through hooded eyelids as his frown smoothed over. “I wantt youu,” he mumbled, slowly repeating the first half of Hannibal's sentence. “I wa-ant you.”

Sloppy, damp hands roamed up through Hannibal's hair, down his neck, his shoulders, his chest... before they shot up, rising to the ceiling. 

“Everywhereee,” Will suddenly whispered, eyes wide as he rounded his arms over his head before lowering them slowly. “Ee-very-whhereeee.”

Two hands framed Hannibal's face a little too harsh, and Hannibal could feel his cheeks, lips and chin puffed out under the pressure. Eyes fell to his mouth, resembling the shape of that of a fish.

“You-ou...” Will garbled, bringing his thumbs down to brush against Hannibal's opening lips. “You-ou want to kissss me, you knoww.”

Hannibal's dark, dark core had never felt the stirring of something beyond his control, until Will. In this moment, it was coiling, boiling, weeping under Will's touch, Will's stare...

“Yes,” he admitted without a moment's hesitation. Yes, he wanted to kiss Will. A life spent near Will was enough to ensure a fill of all the voids...

But a kiss....

A kiss, a connection of the heart, a romance – that would bring him absolute paradise.

“Kiss,” Will suddenly snapped, pulling at Hannibal's head demandingly as his fingers curled behind his ears. “Kisss me.”

Pink lips pursed and blue eyes closed. Noses brushed and foreheads touched, before Hannibal carefully detangled himself from the lure of Will's grip, and the temptation of his pink, inviting, _willing_ mouth.

No.

“I can't kiss you when you're not in the right mind to consent,” he hushed against Will's chin with open, pained regret. “Despite my desire for your wrath tomorrow.”

Will sighed a chuckle against his temple. His lips were wet against Hannibal's skin. “Mmmm,” he moaned, tightening Hannibal's flesh to deep down in his loins. “You kisss – You, you kisss me tomo-wow,” he said, poking both thumbs against Hannibal's lips.

Hannibal smiled against the touch, baring sharp teeth before placing a small kiss on the tip of one, quivering thumb. “Ask me tomorrow,” he spoke against the skin.

Will breathed wetly from his throat as he frowned. “Youuuu...” he said, thumbs poking up Hannibal's lips until his fangs were exposed. “Youuuu ask _me_ tomowow.”

Hannibal enjoyed Will's exploration of his face, and watched him through heavy lids as Will pushed and probed curiously against his skin. “Will I?” he hummed at the cloudy boy.

Will nodded with a free fall of his head. “Mmm-mmmm,” he said, squeezing the skin of Hannibal's cheeks into a sloppy pinch. “Becausee youu... likeee mee.”

Hannibal inhaled, deep and sharp, as he looked into unguarded, hazy blue. “I love you,” he breathed, unafraid. It was a clear, clean and untampered fact he had not been frightened to reveal.

Will looked at him, and Hannibal wondered with fiery curiosity what the man would remember when the drugs would wear off. Arms folded around Hannibal's shoulders, as Will pressed the cheeks together, bringing their bodies close in an awkward embrace.

“D-don't go,” he heard Will plea against his nose, and felt the hot streak of air against his skin.

“Never,” he promised with all that was in his heart. “Never again.”

“Phah...” Will mumbled sleepily against him.

**

Fed, washed and freshly bandaged, Will was propped up on the corner sofa early next afternoon, and nodded gratefully when Hannibal handed him another cup of herbal tea. 

Careful to avoid Will's lifted, outstretched leg, Hannibal seated himself beside Will's shoulder as he pressed his lips together in a teasing smile. “You asked me for a kiss.” 

Blue eyes shot up with flustered stubbornness, as Will pressed his mouth against the rim of the mug.

“Phah,” he huffed against the glazed clay, and rolled his eyes theatrically to the ceiling when Hannibal kept his gaze on him. “I did no such thing.” 

“You did indeed,” Hannibal countered daringly as he crossed his legs and leaned one arm on the back of the couch. “- after your surgery yesterday.”

Will blew on his tea, ears pink and his piercing gaze unimpressed. Hannibal leaned back against a cushion. “You also asked me to ask you for one, today,” he poked teasingly, and watched how Will's ears shaded to red as he buried his face in his cup.

But Hannibal caught the twitching lip and the snort echoing against the inside of his mug. Stormy eyes peeked back at Hannibal who folded his hands together around the upper knee.

“Maybe things weren't as complicated as you made them out to be?” he hummed, dipping his toes in very dangerous waters. Waters he knew now were not always as cold as they appeared, but surely hosted many sharp teeth.

Will sighed, but warmed Hannibal's side when he leaned in against him. “What we have is beyond complication, Hannibal,” he mumbled, his lashes fluttering when Hannibal carted soft fingers over his skull.

“Not when your tongue is loosened by barbiturates,” Hannibal mused, allowing himself the pleasure of Will's nearness and the weakening warmth it wakened inside. “Then, you seem to know exactly what your desires are regarding us.”

Will chuckled against Hannibal's side, his cup between both his open hands. “This,” he nearly sighed as Hannibal dragged light nails across his skin, “you and me...” Stormy eyes flashed up to meet Hannibal. “...is the most fucked up thing that ever existed in my entire fucked up life.” 

His laughter was dry, but his eyes were swimming as he said: “I don't even understand half of my own part in it, Hannibal.” 

Will's spine crackled when he pushed himself upright, allowing Hannibal to take the cup from his hands and place it on the coffee table. “We can't just forget about all of it,” he said, hunching his shoulders as he looked at Hannibal through his unruly bangs. “Just because you...” he swallowed visibly, “...just because I want you to kiss me.”

Hannibal turned towards him, hand inching towards Will's on the couch. “Can't we?” he breathed, before their fingers brushed between their hips.

He leaned in, nose brushing a soft curl. “Because you told me you want me...” he whispered, and watched Will's eyes blink rapidly with the words. Hannibal rose his hands over Will's head before rounding them downward as he finished with a drawn out: “Eeeverywheeere.”

**BAF**

Hannibal was roughly pushed back by strong hands, shoving hard against his chest as a flustered Will groaned his embarrassment.

“Shut up,” he gasped, eyes wide, before a startled chuckle pushed through his lips. Hands came up to cover his face: “This... is so fucking embarrassing.” Blue eyes were bright but rimmed a fiery shade of pink. “I don't remember half of the things I said,” Will confessed, his voice turning into a whine. “And the things I do remember...”

Hannibal laughed, heartily and true, and brought his arms around Will to push them side to side in a gesture of playful comfort. “It was beautifully real, hearing you speak like that,” he said, as Will's face buried against his neck. 

“It's not fair,” he complained with a muffle. “I will never get to hear your drug-infused babbles.” A poking nose inhaled against Hannibal's skin. “Maybe then you wouldn't be so... so...”

Hannibal's tongue poked the inside of his cheek as he filled the sentence with a dragged out: “- smug?” 

Will snorted against his neck. “That's a good word to describe you,” he said, and Hannibal laughed as he let his hands run up and down Will's back. Never before had Will allowed him this close, with such little tension in the wiry muscles.

“It was the word _you_ used to describe me,” he said, and Will coughed, choking on the memory. 

“You're awful,” he complained, pushing fingers against Hannibal's chest.

“And a dick, apparently,” Hannibal added cheerfully against Will's hair, whose laugher burst from deep within his chest.

“Jesus,” Will moaned, pushing back far enough to look straight into Hannibal's twinkling eyes. “Yeah, you laugh it up,” he said, cheeks warm and lips full. “You wouldn't feel so confident if it were you babbling straight from your unfiltered gut.”

So close together, Hannibal easily got lost in Will's heady scent, his warmth and solid weight against his bones.

“I still have a tooth that needs pulling,” he said, before he had the chance to think it over. His right molar in the back had been wobbling ever since the Dragon had elbowed him square in his face.

“You never use anesthesia on yourself,” Will said, raising a dark eyebrow, but Hannibal pushed his arms tighter around his waist, unwilling to let the other man go.

“Well...” he said, feeling giddy from the smile on Will's pink lips. 

“If it evens the score...”

**

Will watched the sleeping man on the bed with great, great annoyance.

Hannibal had pulled the cracked molar, took the drugs, as promised, and had quickly fallen into slumber. That was two hours ago. 

Lying on the bed beside him, Will pulled a face as he watched Hannibal sleep, wondering if he was going to wake up at all before the stuff he took wore off completely.

“Come on,” he groaned, jostling Hannibal's arm with his hand. “You're not getting off this easy, old man.”

A decent fifteen minutes later, Hannibal finally began to stir.

“W-iill?” he slurred as he turned and spotted Will beside him. His honey eyes were a deep swirl, as he rolled lazily to his belly.

The man was rosy with sleep, golden with ease, and still every inch as elegant as Will knew him to be. He watched how the gold and silver hair stuck up at the back, and reached to smooth it over with his fingers. 

Lips opened in a smile, showing him deep, dark red. 

“Lay back,” Will said, trying to push Hannibal back on his pillow. “You still have blood in your mouth.”

Water. He needed to get him some water. Will slid off the bed, supporting himself only on his right leg as he stumbled to the sink.

“Willll...Wiiillll,” Hannibal whined after him, and Will bit back the urge to chuckle at the desperate call that followed him from behind. As put together and controlled he knew the man to be, as unwound and undignified he sounded now.

“I'm coming,” he assured him, as he held a glass under the tap to fill it halfway with water. Hannibal kept a high whine in his throat and Will dragged himself back as quickly as he could. “I'm here,” he shushed, as he seated himself on the edge of Hannibal's side of the bed.

“Drink this.”

Hannibal lifted the glass to his lips and tilted it for a drink, before the water ran down from both sides of his mouth, down his chin, onto the covers of their bed.

“Oh Jesus, sorry,” Will said, as he snatched the glass back. “I forgot you can't feel anything.” He quickly dabbed Hannibal's mouth with the hem of his shirt, as the man looked at him, dazed and confused.

“I-I feelll thingss,” he said, as he blinked his pretty lashes up at Will. “I-I feell all the thingss.”

Will smiled as he cleaned him up, and brushed the back of his hand down Hannibal's temple as he settled against the bed-rest.

“You took a lot of drugs, didn't you?” he asked, shaking his head as he patted Hannibal's sleek hair. “Much more than you needed.”

Hannibal closed his eyes. “Mmmm,” he hummed. “Twass for Willl.” He placed a lazy finger against his lips, as if to indicate his words were a secret. Will only felt his insides waver with a thick stroke of affection.

Damn him.

“You'll be OK,” he comforted, continuously stroking the silver and gold hair beneath his fingers. Hannibal looked up at him through half lids.

“Y-you're maggnificenttt,” he said with a dramatic, adoring sigh that made Will smile and wince in a single breath.

“You would know,” he tried to tease as his eyes danced around Hannibal's doughy gaze. “You stare at me a lot.”

Hannibal hummed again, as he tried to grasp Will's hand with his. When he succeeded, he placed his cheek against Will's palm and inhaled. “I tryy noto temmpt myselff,” he spoke guiltily, “but I... I lookk.”

Will's smile burst from between his teeth, as he tried to suppress a chuckle. “I know you do,” he cooed, as he rubbed his hand along Hannibal's stubble. “I've been looking at you too, you know.”

The confession was so easily made, with Hannibal so dazed, so vulnerable and small. Otherwise Will would have never...

Well... maybe.

Things had been different lately.

Hannibal's eyes widened, and a finger swayed searchingly before he pressed it to Will's lips and whispered: “I sssaw you w-wwithout clooothing.”

A snort burst from Will's nostrils this time, as he smiled openly against the finger. Hannibal had operated on him, had bathed him, had redressed him. It was fair to say 'modesty' hadn't had a place between them.

“Trust me, I know,” he said, as he lowered Hannibal's finger, and wrapped his own hand around it. “You've seen me. I've seen you.”

Hannibal stared at him, his eyes briefly crossing on the tip of his nose, before his eyes widened comically. “Yeess?”

His breath smelled of copper, and Will bit his lip as he cupped Hannibal's chin lightly in his hand.  
“Yes,” he said, rubbing a thumb across the man's rough cheek. “And you know you're handsome.”

Hannibal smiled like a content cat as he closed his eyes, and rested the weight of his head in Will's hand. “Mmmm, I aam,” he sighed, before he leaned himself back against the pillow, opened his tired eyes and brought up his fingers to run down Will's chest. “But youuu...” he spoke dreamily, “are annn absoluuutee aaaangel.” Fingers pulled aimlessly at Will's shirt as Hannibal rolled his head side to side. “A paragggon of beauuuuutyy.”

Will huffed, as he let himself be pulled closer. He was deeply familiar with Hannibal's theatrics, but to hear these terms of endearment and admiration fall from his drunken tongue was tickling something within him. He snorted when Hannibal accidentally head-butted him as he tried to bring him closer, and jolted when Hannibal's hands suddenly pressed against his belly.

“Youuu haveee the most beauuuuuutiful scarrr,” he smiled, pulling Will's shirt out of his sweats. “Heeree. Heree it iss.”

Will allowed the touch along the smile on his stomach. Deep and wide, but not deep and wide enough to have killed him. Exactly the amount he could afford.

“Thanks,” he said, pulling back to sit up on the bed, and look down at Hannibal's drowsy fingers on his skin. He was warm and gentle, and Will felt his adoration through the damaged flesh. “It's yours.”

Hannibal's hand pulled away from his skin, as drunk eyes instantly drew to the ceiling. “Yess,” he breathed, an endless stare taking over his features as if the white plaster suddenly held something that enchanted... or frightened him. “Yess, I...”

“You hurt me,” Will finished for him, as he placed his hands on his own thighs. “Yes, you did.”

Hannibal's eyes shifted on the ceiling. Restless movements, left to right. To Will's surprise, or perhaps even absolute shock, tears suddenly welled in Hannibal's honey gaze as he traveled them along the walls and roof.

“Hannibal,” he reached, finding Hannibal's hand on the sheets. The man didn't look at him as he murmured:

“I-I didn'tt realizeeee thatt I-I...” he struggled with the words, but seemed to be unaware. “I-I don't wanttto hurttt W...” - Will heard Hannibal's throat close in a choke, and rubbed his thumb along the back of his hand. He watched a fat tear fall from eye to ear.

“You didn't realize... that you don't want to hurt Will?” he asked, his voice a low, fragile whisper, as it sprung from a most vulnerable place between his ribs.

“N-noo,” Hannibal said, pressing his lips together. His head shook lightly on the pillow, and another tear slipped through. “I-I diiddn' like'it.”

Will caught the tear with his thumb. “No,” he swallowed, as he watched the drop balance on his skin before it dripped down the side of his hand. “Don't hurt Will.”

He stood, to once again shuffle around the bed and hoist himself onto the other side.

“Noo. Noo,” Hannibal repeated beside him, eyes still on the ceiling, as if watching all the answers sway above his head.

“I-I lovve Willll.”

Finally, the gaze lowered, and Hannibal's head turned on the pillow. Honey eyes hit Will, straight, wet and steadier than Will had expected. “I l-love Will,” he said, dead earnest within the swirl around his head as he watched him through wet lashes.

Will felt his stomach clench hot and cold and hot again, as he shuffled on the bed to bring himself closer. “I know,” he breathed. “I know.”

He folded his arm around the other man, as he shaped himself against Hannibal's side. “Lie here with me.”

Hannibal obeyed, curling himself on his side as he pressed his nose into Will's shoulder. The bullet scar grazed the tip.

“I lovee you,” Hannibal said, and Will felt his lips smooth over his skin with the words. Looking down, Will saw those honey brown eyes looking straight up at him. Rimmed pink, wet and hazy.

“And I l-” Will started, feeling warm and tight in his chest, as a new kind of courage bubbled up from his heart to his mouth. But only halfway in, it was Hannibal's swatting hand that shushed him.

“Nnoo, nnoo,” he demanded, eyes still big and wide on Will, as he slid himself a little higher up the bed. Lips brushed along the curve of Will's shoulder, until they aligned with his ear. “Llistenn too mee.”

Will almost snorted at the stubborn man, missing out on his confession, but nodded when Hannibal started fidgeting with the short sleeve of his shirt and pressed his lips together in earnest. “Thiss lovee iss faar beyonnnd the physssical, Will. Faaar beyonnnd thee physsical.”

Will leaned back against the headboard, and carted hands through Hannibal's messy hair. “You don't want it to be physical?” he asked him.

Hannibal's eyes widened, as if suddenly horrified by the image those words had brought behind his eyes. “Sooo muuuch, yessss,” he breathed, forcing eye contact with his drunken vision. Hands opened, and reached slowly to the ceiling. “Soooo muchs.”

Will's eyes lowered to his own stroking hands, as he tried to suppress the warm, tingling smile that grew from the sparks he felt bursting inside. 

Hannibal's voice was a whisper: “Butt itss... beyyyondd.”

Hands grasped the shirt against Will's belly and chest, like a clinging monkey grasping its mother, and Hannibal's dazed, sleepy features came into Will's vision as he tried to climb on top of him. Reaching. “Wee havee time, Willl. I-I havee timee,” he spoke in earnest, and Will saw the dark red in his mouth rimming his teeth. “Eeven if its allll the timee.”

And Will understood the message. He brushed a hand from Hannibal's forehead down to his neck. He understood.

Hannibal dared to tell him, now, that all he wanted was Will. As a lover, as a friend, as a partner, as a brother... however he could have him, it would be enough. He wasn't pushing, he wasn't impatient or expecting anything. Hannibal wanted Will as a partner in crime, a life companion, a husband and a soul mate. But he would be satisfied living with as little as friendly neighbors, should that be all Will were willing to give.

What it all came down to, was the next sentence, uttered with naked fragility.

“D-donn't leavve me.”

Don't leave me. Don't run. You make the rules, as long as you stay.

Will pulled the man over him, until he was lying completely on top. He guided Hannibal's tired head down in his neck, and brought his own arms beneath Hannibal's armpits to link his fingers on his back. He wondered if Hannibal would have ever dared to vocalize this fear without the drugs. If he would ever realize how deeply it was rooted. How far beyond his own pride.

“No,” he said, enjoying the weight of Hannibal's body pressing close.

“Ddon't go backk too yoour stuupid wiffe,” Hannibal pleaded hot against Will's collar bone, and they both shook when Will laughed silently within his chest.

“She's not...” he tried, before huffing hot air from his nostrils. 

“No,” he promised. “I won't.”

This time, it was Hannibal who made them both shake, when a bubble of giggles burst from his belly.

“Yoour stuuuuupid wiffe,” he repeated against Will's skin, and his shoulders shook with laughter.

Will smiled, closed his eyes against the warmth and weight of their embrace, and knew they were going to fall asleep just like this.

**

Hannibal had slept for fourteen hours after that, and Will was just finishing his daily ankle exercises when he heard the shower run. He made a fresh round of coffee, that was pouring into the cups just as Hannibal walked into the kitchen, wearing a bathrobe, silk pajama pants and slippers.

Will couldn't stop himself from smiling when he walked in and took the offered cup with clear but pink eyes.

“How do you feel?” he asked, as he watched a forgotten droplet roll down Hannibal's throat.

Hannibal's tongue swiped the inside of his mouth behind closed, contemplating lips. 

“Asymmetrical,” he decided, and Will exhaled into his coffee.

“And your head?” he poked, as a smirk pulled over the rim of his cup.

Hannibal rose two ash blond eyebrows, but smiled at him nonetheless.

“Clear,” he drawled. “Did you have fun with my vulnerable state?”

Will laughed a real laugh. A cackle that sounded foreign from his own throat. “I think we both did,” he teased, before reaching out and slipping an arm around Hannibal's waist. “We had a little heart-to-heart.” 

Hannibal's surprised delight was open on his face, and his features melted with tenderness as he slid his own arm around Will's shoulder.

“I must admit, it's a bit of a blur to me,” he confessed to the memories that lay tainted and far inside his mind. Will's lips pulled as he bit down on the lower.

“Well...” he mused, putting his coffee cup on the counter without stepping out of their half-embrace. “I suppose I could fill you in.”

Hannibal chuckled at Will's bemused tone. “Enlighten me,” he said, following Will's example by putting away his coffee cup, still filled to the brim.

Will folded his free hand around Hannibal's side, holding him in his arms as he eyed him with a sharp slice of joy.

“You told me that you love me.”

Hannibal brought his own arms loosely around Will.

“I do,” he said, without a blink of those warm, honey eyes.

Will ran a tongue over his teeth. “And that you saw me naked,” he continued, a light chuckle in his tone that Hannibal mirrored in his reply.

“I did,” he admitted without a breath of contemplation.

Will's lips tilted into a crooked smile as he leaned in closer to Hannibal's ear. He brought his voice down to a whisper as he said: “And that you 'looked'.”

Hannibal's chest brushed his, and the heat of his skin seeped into Will as they leaned closer together. “Well...” was Hannibal's only offer, as sharp teeth shone in the warm kitchen light.

Will licked his lips, leaning back enough to look up at Hannibal's face, tightened with amusement and pleasure. “You also said your love for me was _beyond_ the physical,” he said, adding the same 'magician's' qualities to the word as Hannibal had. “Beeyyooonndddd.”

And Hannibal's shoulders shifted with vibration as he tightened his hands on Will's smaller back.  
“It is.”

Will tilted his head, feeling the minty breath brush his cheeks as they fitted closer together. “But that you would like it to be.”

Hannibal's eyes fell to his lips. “I do.”

“Soooo muuchhhhh,” Will whispered against him through a toothy smile that opened both their faces.

Hannibal's lips hovered over Will's. “No truer words...” he spoke against the skin.

The kiss was gentle; a soft slide of their lips. A sweet introduction of their mouths, dancing around the question of permission. The pressure of their skin was barely present, but their lips slid wetly and sweet together with a building heat.

It was brief. Too brief. But their separation didn't last, because when their eyes met again, they were blazed open with desire. A confirmation for and by both that this was the path they were choosing.

Will closed the distance the second time, and it was only after another moment of tenderness, that Will's tongue came to taste along his lips with a needful groan of a desire buried deep and long inside himself. A desire for Hannibal he had denied them both.

Hannibal's hands wrung into Will's shirt, as he opened his mouth to meet his need for more. They melted against the other with fluttering eyes as Hannibal pressed their mouths together into a deep, heated kiss. Shared moans rolled from one tongue to the other as Hannibal licked gently along Will's lower lip and slid them together, smooth and easy as they pulled softly and tugged carefully, coaxing and nudging and silently begging against the other's skin. 

Hannibal's tongue brushed against Will's lips, before slipping fully into the wet heat of his mouth, and greeted him with a gentle, daring stroke against his teeth. Will moaned deeply into him at the pleasure the kiss sparked deep inside his belly, and held on to the other man's shoulders to prevent himself from losing his balance as he met his gentle persuasion by licking wholly against the roof of Hannibal's mouth. 

When they pulled apart, their hands still clung to the other, and their skin and lips flushed red. Their breath was caught high in their chests, and it took a shattered moment before they could find the calm to speak.

Their eyes were black and bright, as Will nuzzled against Hannibal's warm cheek.

“You also said I can't go back to my stuupidd wife,” he chuckled with a tremble against Hannibal's skin.

Hannibal's amusement was hummed against his ear. “You can't,” he confirmed all too happily, “You can't go back to your stuupid wife”, and Will laughed into his neck with a hot, wet relief.

Hannibal's chest vibrated against his as he tightened his arms, closing them into a whole embrace.

“Dick.” 

**

And they could only move forward from here on out, Will decided. He was anxious but bubbling with anticipation as he sat on the bed, waiting for Hannibal's return from the bathroom.

He wanted to move forward, to a place beyond anything they had shared, or lived. To a place beyond anything either one of them had ever experienced.

And it was terrifying as well as glorious: he was choosing Hannibal. All of him, without restraint.

Finally.

Will was leaning against the bed-rest with one hand behind his head, when Hannibal entered the room, unpresumptuously wearing his usual silk pajamas and rubbing his wet hair dry with a towel.

Bare feet patted on the parquet.

“Youuu,” Will slurred, as he pointed a purposely unsteady finger at Hannibal. “Commeee heree, youu.” 

The other man looked up in surprise at Will's unexpected tone, and paused the towel against the side of his head, mid-drying. He made a show of turning his head over his shoulder before pointing at his own chest with an innocent fluttering of his lashes. “Me?”

Will's flat hands slapped down on the bed. “Yeeeaaah you, youuuu smuggg son of a bitch… come hereee,” he grinned openly when Hannibal blinked, dropped the towel to the floor and smiled his teeth bare as he approached the bed.

“Come here,” Will breathed, lying himself down on the bed when the man climbed on the mattress and slowly tigered over him to align their bodies. Hannibal dipped his head to capture Will's smiling lips into a kiss. Soft and deep all at once, their tongues slid together as legs fitted between the other's. 

“Here?” he asked against Will's mouth, who bit down punishingly on the other's lower lip. 

“Close enough,” he huffed, before Hannibal felt greedy hands in his damp hair as he leaned on his elbow above Will's shoulders, supporting his head with two cupping hands.

Their chests breathed against the other, pushing them up and down as their hips and groins met behind the layers of their thin pajamas and undergarments. 

Will surrendered to the feeling of their touching skin and conquering mouths, but the tension he felt in the back of Hannibal's neck betrayed his restraint. The man was holding back, afraid to cross an unspoken, invisible boundary. To lose him again.

But Will was all in. Will was all the way in. “More,” he moaned against Hannibal's lips, as his body sang and burned under his touch. He had always wanted – desired – _this_. He'd just never been brave enough. Honest enough. But there was no way he was ever going back to being blind, after the shells had fallen away.

Hannibal pulled back, chest flushed pink beneath the buttons and swollen lips glistening wet. “More?” he asked nearly shy, as he searched Will's eyes with blazing, thick honey. 

“More,” Will spoke with air alone, as he arched up his pelvis to show his desire, and brought his hand down to the hem of Hannibal's shirt. 

Hannibal's lower half pressed back against his, obviously aroused and willing. “How much more?” he mouthed against Will's neck as he kissed a wet trail down, and Will hissed when teeth grazed his artery over tender skin.

“As much as you are willing to give,” he swallowed, fumbling with the buttons of Hannibal's pajamas. Buttons on pajamas were now more ridiculous than ever. “I'm still not very mobile.”

Hannibal laughed against his neck, making Will shiver with the sharp, hot air that seeped straight into his bones. “You might regret those words,” he said, pushing his own hands under Will's shirt to slide them over the trembling muscles. “I'm most willing to give you everything I have.”

And Will had no reason to doubt him, because Hannibal never moved half-heartedly. He was a man of no less than all, and Will had known that on the cliff, as he knew it now.

“So give it.”

And Hannibal did. 

Will was undressed along the journey of worship on his skin. Hannibal sucked bruises and bit marks on his flesh as he hungrily moved a path down from Will's throat, arms, wrists and fingers. His chest, nipples, pits and ribs. His stomach, bellybutton, abdomen, and hips. All the way down to his crotch. Will was hot, hard and leaking when Hannibal sank his mouth over him, to the point it took maddening restraint not to loose himself in the velvet but dangerous heat that was Hannibal.

Long, slick fingers opened Will's body, who watched in awe as Hannibal experienced him, felt, scented, _absorbed_ him, as if frightened it would be the last, the only time.

But it wouldn't be.

Will didn't know where to look, how to move, or to maintain any dignity with the noises he was making when Hannibal rubbed his prostate with unfair precision and massaged the tight ring of muscles with his flattened tongue. He could only bite down on his fist as he desperately tried to keep in mind he was not allowed to move his damaged ankle.

“Hannibal, please,” he begged when he couldn't take a moment longer, even if he desperately wanted to. Hannibal shed his clothes as Will clawed at the offensive fabric, before their naked skin touched along the entire length of their bodies.

A deep groan, a purr of true satisfaction, penetrated Will's ear with a heat and desire that made him lift his good leg over Hannibal's back until his curled toes found the round curve of Hannibal's ass.

When they connected, and Hannibal slid inside him with a forced patience that caused them both to pant and growl, Will felt his body fold around him with a stretch and burn that caused him to curse, to shudder and to push down for more. 

He was so full, stretched so wide, when Hannibal pulled back, pushed in, and found a rhythm that was deep but slow, hard but gentle, and brought them both on the verge of laughter, tears and eruption. Will clung to him, kissing whatever skin he could reach and holding on to whatever he could grasp as Hannibal breathed, quivered and groaned in a way Will had never seen him break.

He heard his own name on every breath, and felt himself opening as they moved, rolled, danced. Lost in each other and the waves of the storm.

Hannibal had wanted this. From the start, he had wanted this. Hannibal had known how good, how seamless it would be between them. Will had struggled to understand before, both the union of their minds and of their flesh, but at last, he understood.

Because, Jesus Christ, it had never been this good.

Hannibal's hand stroked up around Will's shaft as he fucked into his tight, slick hole with his thick, pulsing cock until Will was about to go officially cross eyed. His nails dragged over Hannibal's shoulder, as he brought him in for open kisses on his panting lips.

He was so close, he could already see the light behind the gate.

“Hannibal, please, I need you so much...” Will sobbed, arching his spine when Hannibal angled hard on his prostate while rubbing his fingers right beneath that spot on the head of Will's cock.

Hannibal inhaled sharply through his nostrils as he nuzzled Will beneath his ear. “Sooo mucchhh?” he hummed teasingly against the shell, and just as a weakening burst of laughter bubbled from Will's lips, Hannibal's hand tightened on the length of his overstimulated erection. His body spilled hot drops of sticky semen onto his own belly, and his giggle became a wail as he shook and spasmed beneath Hannibal with nails digging hard into the man's back.

It was blinding, squeezing, absolute sharp, cruel pleasure as Hannibal fucked him through it, and allowed Will's body to squeeze his own orgasm from him as he looked at Will with eyes as coal, and rode the waves of his climax with facial expressions and sobbing grunts that would be the closest thing to resemble pain Will had ever seen in him.

But it wasn't pain, because the nearly endless sigh of pure happiness that followed when Hannibal's body pressed bonelessly against him, was a sign most clear.

Careful not to hurt Will's ankle, Hannibal fitted himself against the other side, slinging one arm over Will's waist to cuddle closer. “Mmmm,” he hummed as he grazed his nose along Will's neck. “And to think you didn't even like me.”

Will laughed, feeling Hannibal's soft, warm belly press against his hip. “I'm not supposed to,” he teased, turning his head to murmur the words against Hannibal's smiling mouth. “But I do.”

A light kiss pressed to Hannibal's lips.

“And if you can find the patience to let me finish a sentence this time, I'll tell you what else I'm not supposed to, but do...” Will continued, watching Hannibal's eyes swim wet in the gentle light of their bedroom. Honey eyes were wide with anticipation before Will cupped his face with his hands, and pressed the skin together with enough force to puff out Hannibal's cheeks, chin and lips.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still hoping to entertain you during these odd, odd times! ^.^


End file.
